Tom Boogaart

By Tom Boogaart A few years ago, an historic Reformed Church was celebrating its sesquicentennial and inviting various people to come and talk about the history and future of the Reformed tradition. I was invited to talk about the sacrament…

By Tom Boogaart My house once had a carefully designed garden. Azaleas, rhododendrons, hostas, a dogwood tree, a rose of Sharon bush, and evergreen shrubs, all in appropriate places. When my wife Judy and I bought the house, however, the garden…

By Tom Boogaart Both of my parents died in late winter of this year, and we committed their bodies to the ground: a real committal service. No hiding the hole in the ground and no covering the dirt with green astro-turf,…

by Tom Boogaart The street that links my house and Western Seminary is called College. For thirty years now I have walked it up and down. I know each crack in the sidewalk. I’ve watched cement being poured for driveways,…

by Thomas A. Boogaart I have always loved running. As a boy I ran up and down Lyon Street in Grand Rapids, Michigan, on my way to grade school. As a teenager I ran cross-country and track. As a middle-ager,…

Thomas A. Boogaart I have often thought that the role of a biblical scholar is a little like that of a shaman. We journey from our familiar world and to a strange new world, the world of the Bible. Having…